


Comment Tu T'appelles?

by Seventysixtyniner



Series: Love in War [1]
Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Fluff, Gibson deserves happiness, M/M, Pining, also he has a real name in this, language barriers, like SUPER sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-13 21:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11768646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seventysixtyniner/pseuds/Seventysixtyniner
Summary: Even in our sleep, the Frenchman muses, we must fight.He wishes he could reach his hand over and smooth out the wrinkles in the sleeping boy's forehead, wishes he could soothe him. He knows that to be impossible however, due to the insurmountable language barrier between them.~~~Gibson deserves happiness, so this is an attempt to bring him some.





	Comment Tu T'appelles?

**Author's Note:**

> Did I go back and change the name I had set for Gibson in every fic after Aneurin tweeted he thought Gibson's name should be Philippe? Yes. If u see a "Léon" in any of my stories, that's what that's about. Lolol

 

He'll never see home again, he tells himself as he boards the train.

At this instant, Germans are probably planning to burn Paris to the ground. The thought brings tears to his eyes but he refuses to let them fall, primarily because he wants to at least feel strong, but also because he can't afford to draw any attention to himself. Instead, he follows the only two familiar faces near him into a booth. Just across from him is the boy who yelled at him in the boat they found in Dunkirk. What the boy was saying he had no idea, but when he admitted to being French the boy did not seem happy to say the least. They would've killed me, he thinks, had it not been for....

Sitting curled next to him, with his head resting on the seat cushion, is the first Englishman he met at Dunkirk. His eyes are closed, though occasionally his face tenses and the crease between his eyebrows darkens, as if he's fighting a nightmare.

 _Even in our sleep,_ the Frenchman muses, _we must fight_.

He wishes he could reach his hand over and smooth out the wrinkles in the sleeping boy's forehead, wishes he could soothe him. He knows that to be impossible however, due to the insurmountable language barrier between them. He resolves to simply admire the sleeping soldier and lets the sight relax him.

The Frenchman hears a moan beside him, as the sleeping soldier, his only true ally, begins to stir. He opens his eyes and sits up. His eyes meet the Frenchman's, who thinks he might melt. The Englishman's eyes are glazed with sleep, and all traces of nightmares are gone as he smiles softly at his companion.

The boy across the table scoffs. He says something, accusingly, that the Frenchman doesn't understand. The boy next to him responds in his calming voice. The two converse. The Frenchman looks between them, attempting to read their body language. The soldier across the table has his arms crossed and his chin up, with one ankle sitting atop his opposite knee. The boy next to him is leaning forward, with his elbows on the table. In front of him, the soldier tips his chin up an inch further, looks at the Frenchman, and gives one last statement. It seemed to be a type of challenge.

The kind boy next to the Frenchman sighs, and turns to look into the Frenchman's eyes. He raises his eyebrows and asks a question, slightly tilting his head to the side as the foreign words leave his lips. The Frenchman stays silent, and looks into his companion's eyes, wishing he could look into them forever; they bring him a sense of calm he hadn't felt since the war began.

The boy across the table laughs and shakes his head. He stands up and the Frenchman flinches, fearing another interrogation like the one in Dunkirk. The boy notices this, and raises his hand to the Frenchman with his palm down. Understanding this signal, the Frenchman tries to relax. The boy shouts to a bystander near the train, and mimes writing on a notepad through the window. He is handed a pencil and a piece of scrap paper. He places the paper on the table, holds the pencil over it, and stares at the Frenchman as he begins to write.

"A - L - E - X"

"Al-ex," he says slowly, maintaining direct eye contact with the Frenchman and bringing his hand to his chest for emphasis. He slides the pencil and paper across the table to the soldier next to the Frenchman, who begins to write.

"T - O - M - M - Y"

"Tommy," the boy says as he looks up to the Frenchman.

 _Tommy_. It's perfect. The name becomes ingrained in the Frenchman's mind as he replays the sound of it over and over. Despite just hearing it now, he feels Tommy is a name he's always known. When the pencil and paper are passed to him, he understands what to write.

"P - H - I - L - I - P - P - E"

"Philippe," he says. It's the most confidently he's spoken in weeks.

"Philippe," Tommy says with a sly grin and eyes slightly in awe. The second time he says it he lets the "L" roll slowly off his tongue, and Philippe feels his face heat up. He could hear Tommy say his name for the rest of his life. He wants Tommy to say it again. He wants to bring the name out of him when they're alone together, in between soft gasps. Philippe lets his thoughts trail until he is forcefully brought back to reality by a weight on his right shoulder and a hand on his forearm. Tommy, he realizes, has fallen asleep again with his head on Philippe's shoulder. This makes Philippe tense as he tries to keep still in order to stop himself from waking the boy.

Alex, after examining the pink in Philippe's cheeks, laughs. Philippe searches Alex's face for the source of his laughter, but receives only a wink.

 _He knows_ , Philippe realizes, but the thought doesn't panic him. In fact, knowing that both of his secrets are now out to someone brings some relief. He smiles at Alex and shrugs with his free shoulder, eliciting more laughter from the other boy.

He then brings his gaze to his right shoulder. He studies Tommy's sleeping face, finding it completely relaxed for the first time. Philippe releases a deep breath he feels like he's been holding in since Tommy discovered him burying Gibson. Looking at Tommy, Philippe feels strong enough to fight the entire German army on his own. He'd do it too, if it meant Tommy would be free of his nightmares forever. Content and completely in love, Philippe closes his eyes and drifts into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> First story lol. Not sure how it turned out but I wanted to show Gibson some love! Also shoutout to @kerbella on tumblr for giving me the name Léon for Gibson! Even though it's Philippe now smh lol. Thanks for reading!


End file.
